Of The Angels Brigade
by TheColourGray
Summary: She was an Angel, I was a demon. But when it came to being wild, she could beat me every time. That was a fact that would stay true till Hell froze over. A SoMa about how looks can be deceiving. Full description inside.
1. Prelude

Hullo Ladies and Gentlemen! I am currently sitting in the glow of candle light, on a Cold War era battle submarine, traveling along the bottom of the Indian Ocean. My coordinates are currently 4.5655° N, 66.4453° E, and, if you would be so kind, do not bomb us now that I have provided you with that information. The year is 1947 and here, in the first mates office, staring out at the exotic ocean life thousands of miles below sea level, I have, of all things, decided to run for the office of United States Vice President with one Millard Fillmore….I wouldn't think too hard about it.

Summery Time. But before I start let me just put a couple things out there. Soul's POV. No OCs. But some OOC action (not that I intended changing characters, it's just hard to stay completely true to personalities)…sigh, umm, more things: I don't own anything (not Soul Eater, not any of the quotes. Just story plot and my own writing), AU obviously. It would be pretty boring if I just chewed up the plot and spit it back out at you. I feel like I'm trying to sell myself on an online dating service…I like moonlight walks on the beach, armature photography and Italian food… ha, ha…no…This is SoMa obviously. Adventure/Romance stuff. Sorry for any continuity errors and/or scenes that may, in some weird way, insult you. I try and keep this non-religious and I think I do a pretty good job at stripping Angels and Demons of their intended connotations. But, just in case, I'd like to pre-apologies. Take everything that is said with a grain of salt, and know that it is not my intention to spread any sort of belief. Just some good secular fun. There should be around 31 chapters, with the addition of three more (Prelude, Interlude, and Postlude). I'm going to use foot notes; it's an idea that makes me look pretty full of myself but, hey, might as well, right? Plus there are a couple things I changed for the sake of story line that I'd like to defend. Just trust me. And eventually all will be crystal clear. There are a few references that I'm fairly proud of and would enjoy pointing out, even though I know most of you will skip over them, like you have just skipped over this entire massive paragraph, and I can't blame you…Most importantly of all, enjoy.

This was started for my good friend TW, Happy Birthday.

Maka Albarn is an Angel, born into the most prominent family in all of Heaven City. Smart and beautiful she is the heart throb of any self respecting bachelor who's ever laid eyes on her. Of course none of this matters to a Demon, especially not one Soul Eater Evans, who has his own things to worry about besides her mysterious disappearance. But when a strange new kid shows up in school, coupled with a spontaneous power outage and taunting clues from a pink haired basket case that seems to know one too many secret, Soul finds himself on a desperate mission to rescue said damsel in distress. She just may not be as much of an Angel as everyone seems to think.

I start with a quote from one of my favorite writers, Neil Giamen:

"_None of this can actually be happening. If it makes you more comfortable, you could simply think if it as metaphor. Religions are, by definition, metaphors, after all: God is a dream, a hope, a woman, an ironist, a father, a city, a house of many rooms, a watchmaker who left his prize chronometer in the desert, someone who loves you - even, perhaps, against all evidence, a celestial being whose only interest is to make sure your football team, army, business, or marriage thrives, prospers and triumphs overall opposition._

Religions are places to stand and look and act, vantage points from which to view the world.

So none of this is happening. Such things could not occur. Never a word of it is literally true. Even so, the next thing that happened, happened like this:" – American Gods.

In the beginning God created the Heavens. He created the Earth. And he created all the extraterrestrial wonder of everything in between. How insensitive of me. That of course is only one way of looking at things, and I am not one to step clumsily on the toes of anyone who thinks differently. I'm not here to insult your religious beliefs. Though, I'm afraid that if I do not remain neutral this entire time, I inevitably will. So, if it helps, think of this as a joke. On hilarious joke, that shouldn't be taken seriously at any point or in any aspect. I myself do not take this with any credence.

But, I will say this. Whether or not you practice and believe Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, Wiccan, something entirely different, nothing at all, or having no clue whatsoever - you have a soul. I know, I know, how dare I say such a thing! It's okay if you don't believe me and I apologize if I've insulted you greatly. But you do, and when your body leaves and you enter the star struck world beyond, something will have to be done to help that soul get there.

Before we get to that, thought, let me note, God did not create Hell. Which I fear was a bit of an over sight. Good cannot exist without Evil. Heaven cannot exist without Hell.

Nevertheless, soon malevolence was created, and the treacherous cherubs were cast down...down… down …below humans, animals and the other creatures of Earth, all the way to the fiery rubble beneath their feet. Demons, the Angels beneath the floor boards.

And, then when the Gods of Death awoke into consciousness - their only purpose to guide the Souls of the Dead - they were faced with the prospect of where the portals to the next state of being would be located. They act simply as the Guards of Gates, The Gates to the Realm of Souls. And what better places for those gates than two polar opposites. Balance was always key. So it was decided on one in Heaven, and one in Hell.

Angels were a peaceful sort, never experiencing the amoral wreck that Demons were known for from day one. Their society was everything you'd expect from the divine messenger of the Gods. They were skilled in the arts, excelling in areas of logic, technology, and ethics when the world was just slowing its spin. They were innocent and beautiful. The most vivid contrast to the ugly, stupid, sin of Demons.

They took the news with pride. The ever respectable Shinigami's were more than welcome in their homes and councils. The prospect of work was great and one the Angels had not entertained in a while. Of course, that wasn't the only reason. It didn't take a genius to know that denying something with that amount of power would result in consequences. Negative consequences. Everything has alterative motives.

So the problem was never the Angels. It was the Demons that posed a threat to the operation.

The original seven Kings of Hell quickly dissolved in a sea of violent wars and bloodshed. Empire after empire fell. And in the end only one dictator reigned over the stinking closed off cesspool which was this hellhole. It really wasn't surprising that when the Shinigami's wanted cooperation, they took it by force. Conquer with an iron fist of unbridled destruction. Fighting fire with fire. And then in the smoking wreckage of their profit they would develop a society worth ruling over.

Unfortunately for the Death Gods, the Shinigami they put in charge of Hell's Gate was easily corrupted by the sheer power of the souls on the other side. The culmination of energy that just one human soul gives the consumer is enough to crush nations, move mountains, change the tide of the ocean…let alone billions upon billions of them.

Long story short, The God Asura was tainted by his lust, his greed, his fear…The man went insane and slaughtered everyone appointed to run the new order before burning up in the wavelengths protecting the next plane. It was as gruesome as the rest of *Helvetti's history. It was Hell, and it wasn't about to become a tame, Disneyified city overnight.

Today the gates are completely shut off.

Both Angels and Demons run their own independent governments, far from the dregs that their civilizations once were. Order is maintained by the Shinigami's who still act as big brother to the two nations. Trained Angels and Demons work with the Gods to maintain the stability of peace and checked control that the two cultures have achieved.

To prepare young men and women for the prospect of maintaining order alongside their counterparts, two schools were set up in each capitol. The Demon West and Mary's Angels. A division of the Spartoi Plan. Schools were set, government maintained, and rules regulated.

…But I guess the following really isn't about Good and Evil, though it does have that. It's not really about balance, Heaven and Hell, though that's definitely there too. It's not about Angels and Demons, though if you don't find some of those then you're obviously not paying attention. No. It's more about me. And her. And our journey through Purgatorio, and Paradiso, and my dear, dear hometown Inferno.

*Helvetti is Finnish for Hell. I was just using that word Hell a lot….. And so it begins. Chapter one will be up tomorrow. My editor is slow…so I'll cross my fingers. Please ask questions if you have no idea what's going on, but try and be nice as not to hurt my delicate ego.

- Peace and Love, Andy k.


	2. Chance of a Lifetime

Act One: Inferno

'_Do you know where the real hell is? It's inside your head,' -_Crona. Soul Eater, Fierce Battle aboard the Ghost Ship – The Hell inside My Head?

The bell rang loud and low across the common area. The rays of early dawn swept the grass and cold colonial bricks into life once again. The light seemed to elect a new life into the school. I fixed my noir blazer around my shoulder and continued in the direction of the ever rising fiery ball, perched just above horizon. My shadow stretched out behind me as I passed through the small court yard and back into the drafty walls of *Demon West.

It felt strangely early for a student to be walking the halls of a school notorious for bad reputations. Some of the best up and coming best scholar walked these halls, but that didn't mean that a few bodies of simple minded muscle weren't thrown into the mix. And those few specks of dirt went a long way in muddying the rhetorical wedding gown. These halls were tough. If you wanted to succeed you made sure you could fight back. Demons weren't caged by the pretenses of innocence that Angels clung to. No, Demons could be outright cruel; Angels hid their anger behind facades of pearly smiles.

I wasn't on guard, as I probably should have been even at this time of day. Danger lurked in the most unexpected places, and took some of the most naïve looking forms. It took time for me to learn said lesson when I first stepped foot into the school.

Leaving behind a refined life of music and culture to be part of the sticking sewer of politics was a silly decision, but one I made never the less. And one I am overall happy with, for the vein of politics runs deep throughout the Order of Shinigami, the true mark of civilization. And the art of debate had its own tune to it. The art of balance and protection. Of fighting. Something worth committing my life too.

Crona was someone who had tricked me early on. The boy seemed friendly enough, but trusting that little wimp and the devil that possessed him had gotten me into a world of trouble, and left me with one long scar from shoulder to torso.

Then there was that Imp. Though my fool hearty blindness wasn't completely responsible for that mistake. Upon arriving it had been my parents, still reeling from my betrayal, who had consented to send me on with that 'tutor.' He said that I had, 'potential' and my parents had dumbly nodded.

…Something wasn't right about that man. Something sinister laid in his countenance. He lied with each word, and every time we meet my soul would trimmer with more and more distaste. Then there were his questions. All of which I gritted my teeth and bore. Except one,

"Will you play for me?"

It really wasn't a question. It was a demand. I didn't want to play. I didn't like how much he enjoyed it. But the sickest part is I think what he liked the most was my pain. The pain I felt each time I touched those ivory keys. I wish I had said no. Just once I'd like to tell him off. But I backed down without ever looking him in the eyes and telling him I was through.

It was nice to not be his anymore. It was so nice to breathe when all was said and done.

My thoughts were interrupted as I smacked head first into something that made a rather large squeal of surprise. With a resounding thump I hit the hard wooden floor as a waterfall of papers spewed out around me.

"Ugh, Soul Eater, you spilled my coffee." **Eruka looked down at the stain now soaking into the splintered boards before glaring at me where I sat splayed on the floor. She pushed a pair of spectacles up on her nose before staring at me pointedly with narrowed eyes. Picking myself up I began to gather her papers, a job she wasn't about to do herself. "Sorry Ms. Frog," I chanted ignoring eye contact and instead focusing my view on the task at hand. I quickly formed them into a neat stake before handing them up to the teacher before me.

With a sigh she turned to step around, her polka-dotted dress swinging about her in a sharp cloud, "Watch where you're going, Eater."

I nodded. Yeah, not the best start to a day. Looking over my own fallen book bag I noticed that I had missed one of her manila folders in my messy clean up, "Ms. Frog." I called out quickly. I raised the open file to eye level, '***Samuel Arubān Eibon. Age 16. Transfer.'

Eruka snatched the papers away, "That's private, Eater."

"Who's Samuel?"

She flipped a pale blue lock away from her features before continuing, "He's none of your business. "

I handed her the paper back but didn't let the subject go, "The name Eibon, I've heard it before. Is his family famous?"

Eruka sighed, "No, he's no one. He's just a student." She seemed distraught at my questions,

"Listen, Soul." She stopped, deciding whether to continue, "He's a good kid. Rather sweet and quiet. Just, be nice to him. I'm scared of the problems this school will give him."

"Are you saying he can't handle himself," I asked, a little surprised at her compassion.

"No…it's just…he's sort of…" She straightened suddenly and curved back away from me. "Well you'll see…he's in your class."

"It says he was 16. Wouldn't he be in the grade below mine?"

She stopped again, "Why must you question everything, Eater. He's in your class. Period."

Interesting.

With curiosity singing in my heart I headed for my first class. The words 'sweet' and 'quiet' weren't quite words to properly describe a demon. In fact, I felt a little sorry for the poor sucker; he'd be dead in a week.

I ignored most of the people who waved as I walked past. Not that I think it's particularly 'cool' to be apathetic, but…I was fairly handsome in the traditional DW uniform. It was nice having the reputation as the striking untouchable aristocrat of the halls. It kept a nice distance between the giggling school girls, the testosterone filled boys, the uptight jocks and me. A distance I was more than happy with. I didn't really want friends. Loneliness was my own burden that I no longer found painful. It made things a lot easier.

I didn't have no friends...I just really didn't have friends. I had buddies (?) Pals...Ummm (?) It didn't really matter. They were fair weather friends to say the least. So when a one Ms. Jacqueline O. Lantern Dupre was talking with a few teenagers, and I happened to overhear a few facts that sparked my interest, I had no trouble with interrupting the conversation.

I had gotten through my first few classes, lunch was winding down and nothing unusual had troubled the day's usual routine other than the hurried whispers of younger students as they passed me in the halls. Of course a new student was a hot topic. Between the mumbled sentences all I had managed to catch was 'freak' and 'pipsqueak.'

The words didn't seem to fit the scene. It wasn't as if I wanted the poor boy to be tortured to death. In fact I would probably cringe at each insult flung at the kid and mentally dissect myself from the present while he was being harassed, as all people do when seeing something social uncomfortable…but I wouldn't do anything.

Cruel of me wasn't it.

I would let that abuse play out without any interference on my part.

I could give you an absurd lie, something about how being harassed would make him stronger, but I don't feel like spewing insane falsehoods. Not today at least. I'm so fed up with the pretty white lies people tell to get themselves through the day. And I'm not about to add to the growing pile.

But just because I wasn't about to show the kid mercy doesn't mean that I was going to be out right malicious to him. If anything, this talk of a new little undergraduate had sparked my curiosity to new heights. I wanted to see this kid. Eibon was not a normal name. And here your last name meant everything.

Gorgan, Yumi, Mjoilnir. Even Evans held a certain amount of power, though anyone who called me that would get beat up pretty bad. It was Mr. Eater. And they knew it.

I was convinced that I'd heard it before too...Though it didn't possess the sort of brittle hardness that Demon names usually provoked. Eibon sounded old. It sounded aged and scholarly. Too ancient for the meaningless fighting that was so common here. Something more from the workings of Earth, than that of Hell.

The late afternoon sun gleamed with a lazy heat that found me sitting, reading the ****Aeneid under the shadow of the overhang. Breathing in the fresh air, it took me a moment to register what had made me tear my eyes away from the words of Virgil. But when the giggles of girls began up again I looked to see Jacqueline standing among a group of teenagers whispering frantically, the answer became clear.

It peaked my interest more than a little.

"I'm telling you girls, he's an odd one. He's not in my class so I didn't get a good look at him until between blocks last period. But-"

"Jackie," She turned hastily to meet my own blank, crimson stare.

"Oh, Soul- I mean Mr. Eater," She squealed. I'd never seen anyone so terrified of an upper classmen. I should really reevaluate my reputation. I couldn't be that scary.

"Cool you're jets, Ms. Dupre."

She shut her mouth immediately.

"Come here," I said as if instructing a small dog.

She obeyed stepping away from her gaping friends to come and stand next to the pillar I was seated atop. Once she was at my side, I reminded myself to take as if to an infant.

A fact that I find almost comical.

"So...What do you know about Samuel?"

"Who?"

"The new student."

"Oh...him...Well, he's quite small...not at all the type that gets into these places. I assume he bought his way in, or maybe his parents have connections." I had asked for gossip. That's what I got.

"Which would explain why Ms. Yumi was carting him around between subjects."

"Wait, *****Yumi? Like our principle."

"Yeah, she seemed to really be concerned about him. As if the boy was about to explode at any moment. He seemed rather amused by the whole thing. But other than that he just seemed shy, rather cute though."

I rolled my eyes.

"Oh but other than-" As her body seemed to heat up with the anticipation of her next fact the bell rung, cutting her off completely. She seemed to exhale with the relief of her time with me being up and practically sprinted in the opposite direction, back towards the doors, "Bye, Mr. Eater!" She chimed the quick adieu out over the noise of the school calling.

My next class was math. Well calculus...so like math only a lot more terrifying. ******Mr. Free was an idiot, but he was very muscular and very irritated with tardy students. I, for one, was not in the mood to anger the homicidal teacher and quickly shook off my disappointment and headed to the East Wing. Unluckily for me, my thoughts had me slowed.

The classroom was already full when I got to the bolted wooden door. Free stood at the podium, his formal tie and slacks still looking as out of place as ever on a man who seemed more fitted for prison strips than educating the young.

He growled like a feral dog when he saw me standing there, late. "Well, well Mr. Eater! Have a note?"

Shaking my head slightly I crossed to the center of the room. The class went dead silent.

"Just punish me, Mr. Free," I said with a sigh. My bluntness only served to aggravate the beast. But before his harsh voice could punish me further the door swung open once again.

Free let out another muffled roar that was quickly stifled as Mrs. Azusa Yumi entered the room. Yumi had the sort of sharp, calculating features that most people avoided. She was a mercilessly intimidating.

Of course Mrs. Yumi was a demon, but more part of the Shinigami than any of the teachers. The headmaster of both the DW and MA were specially appointed by the Death Gods.

They were trained to pledge their elegances to the Order first and their people second.

Mrs. Yumi commanded the room like she always did. If possible, it got even quieter with her entrance. The entire room focusing first on her and then on boy that followed.

Samuel Aruban Eibon was indeed small. Looking more like a malnourished grade school student than a sixteen year old boy. At least his colouring was correct. Messy black hair fell to about midway down his long neck, and his red eyes sparkled with a certain mischief that had me frozen to the spot. His face was in fact, in one word, adorable. He had small features that looked childish, far from the sharp ones that were expected at his age.

He gave the prying eyes of students a simple nod of recognition. But it wasn't all together his size that made him a commodity. Although that in itself was outlandish, it had more to do with the fact that when he did finally move to the center of the room, it was with Yumi's help, as she rolled his black leather and steel wheel chair.

Free stared at the paraplegic boy with pure shock lighting his face. Samuel didn't seem concerned with the stares he was acquiring from throughout the class room. Instead he seemed almost bored with the lack of conversation.

Yumi leaned into Free, disrupting his awkwardly unwavering gaze, "Mr. Free, would you mind if we talked in the halls?"

Free nodded dumbly and followed her to the hall without shutting his mouth.

As the door slapped shut Samuel let out a low sigh before spinning himself around to face the class. Everyone averted their gaze immediately. He exhaled again before shifting his scrutiny to me. I caved under his gaze, and began to itch with the prospect of leaving. Something about his domineer made me want to run. It was almost like in his cold hush, a sadistic amusement waited to come on. Coughing slightly, I excused myself and sprinted up the stairs to my seat in the 3rd row.

When Free came back in, he was looking rather frazzled. Casting a glance at Samuel he motioned to the back of the room, "There's a free chair near the back."

Samuel looked up at our teacher with a frown, "Umm, Sir? I can't really get up there."

Free pulled a face as if someone had just slapped him, but he bit his tongue. Turning towards the board he spoke through gritted teeth, "Harvar. Move."

Harvar sat in the front, dead center. Without a word he rose and Samuel rolled to the open seat. Throughout the ruckus I watched him closely; his face didn't betray his emotions whatsoever. In fact the boy barely moved, except to retrieve a pair of thick glasses and a notepad from his bag, and then there was the never ceasing scrawl of his pen against the paper as Free talked.

My eyes in no way left the back of the boys head, as if at any moment he would burst into flames or stand up and perform a magic trick.

This was certainly going to be an odd school year.

AUTHORS NOTES:

*So you get how Demon West and Mary's Angels have the initials DW and MA. And when you put them together you get the DWMA.

** Eurka Frog- (Demon, 28) Human Resources for DW

*** Trust me when I tell you that Samuel is not an OC. But then who is he? Please if you figure it out, don't ruin it for others.

**** The Aeneid. An Epic Poem by the Roman writer Virgil. A lot of the books I reference have a religious element behind them. I included this one because of the Divine Comedy in which Virgil acts as Dante's guide. I'll talk about it later.

***** Azusa Yumi- (Demon, 33) Headmaster of DW

****** Ugh, so many notes! Free, which I'm using as a first name and a last, (Demon, 32) Teacher at DW.

Thanks to all. See you next week. And to Rosey P, enjoy.

-Peace and Love, Andy k.


	3. Piano Keys and HeartHarp Strings

'_I'll be your friend in Hell, until then I despise you. And I probably always will.' _– Surprise, Surprise by The Starting Line.

The next month passed without incident. The interest the school had taken in its new addition had quickly died down and was replaced with everyone simply forgetting about his existence. It seemed like slinking throughout the halls was unusually easy for Samuel. He disappeared during lunch periods and seemed to be gone before the last bell had rung. My curiosity was still rather heated while the rest of the world's had cooled down.

I didn't understand what I found so fascinating about him until week two of staring pointedly at the back of his head. It was how different he was, for one. My parents had always taught me to appreciate a fine piece of art and Samuel was certainly a different shade than the any of demon I knew. He didn't boast; in fact he didn't speak. He didn't compete; in fact he was excused from all sports as a result of his condition. And he didn't flirt; in fact he seemed not to notice the opposite sex at all, or anyone for that matter.

Then there was his smell. Angels had the ability to see into your soul. Demons could smell it. Most of us weren't able to see that far into spirits. Our abilities were limited to sniffing out species and emotions. I never smelled anything close to sentiment on Samuel's person, It seemed like all of him was hidden from the world. He never laughed, or ever smiled. Not only that but the smell of demons wasn't as sharp as it should have been. Usually the scent was over-powering and brutal. But Samuel smelt old. He smelt like books, and dust. But mostly he smelt of mud, as if something about his blood was impure. In other words his aroma wasn't right.

What made him different made him the most fascinating thing in my life. I really wanted to know where he came from, what he was thinking, and what he thought of everyone else. At times my thoughts bordered on obsession. Which I was slightly ashamed of.

The hands on the clock slowly ticked by as Mr. Free kept talking. I only had this class with Sam and he proved to be an annoying distraction. So attentive and quiet. So different, I wanted to scream…

Free barked something to the class and I snapped my stare away from the boy, "Okay class, who would like to have the honor of solving this equation for me."

I gulp at the symbols on the board. My head began to spin at the complicated mess of numbers. It seemed like we had skipped a few chapters just to torture our pour befuddled brains. No one raised their hands, willing themselves into nonexistence. Luckily for us, Free had a new punching bag and almost immediately his stare focused on Samuel. I wasn't sure if I was excited by the prospect of seeing Samuel struggle with the math problem or felt sorry for his coming embarrassment.

Samuel didn't seem too concerned as his shoulders perked and he blinked at the board for a second, stunned. Slowly he rolled away from the desk and towards Free, who was smiling like a manic. Samuel lifted a piece of white chalk to his eyes and twirled it between his fingers. Looking up at Free, he raised an eyebrow, giving his teacher a gutsy look. I didn't know the kid had it in him, "Lower the board? I can hardly stand."

Free narrowed his eyes and cranked a lever on the side of black board so it swung to Sam's eye level.

I watched with fascination as he began to write, his cursive was fluent and elegant. The whole class sat mesmerized as line after line of white powered letters appeared on the bored. Samuel methodically dissected the problem. Without hurry, he filled the blank space. Dropping the writing utensil, he turned to face Free. "There."

Free stood, his jaw unhinged. The rest of the class held their breath, as confused at Samuel's answer as we were at the original question.

Free nodded absentmindedly, "It's correct."

Sam's smile faded and he suddenly looked rather troubled. Rolling back to his seat smoothly, I saw him stiffen under the classes gaze. He'd never showed any sign of being self conscious before, so why, in the moment of triumph, did he seem so uncomfortable?

I peered down at him. 'Impressive,' was all my mind could conjure up, 'that was impressive.'

As soon as class ended, Samuel was out like a shot. And without thinking I followed, but once I reached the hall he was nowhere to be seen. Sighing loudly I wondered what I was doing. My next block was a study hall, and I had half a mind to sit in front of the door and do nothing whatsoever. But my feet had different plans, without looking up I trotted silently to the large double doors adorned with the plague, 'Music Room 63'

It was no bigger than a storage closet, and basically that's what it was. But it was quiet and I didn't feel like roasting in the sunny court yard.

Opening the door I peeked into the darkness, the glossy grand piano already shown expectantly in the light from the hall. I breathed in deep before stepping in and flipping the light switch. A messily wired spot light shown down from the ceiling on the black leather bench. I stepped forward and sat down without touching the keyboard. I had no intention of playing,

Instead I reached for my book bag, but stopped when the handle jiggled once again. Swinging open, a flash of cotton and metal rammed into the cramped space. The door slammed shut again and panting breath filled the air. With surprised eyes I raised my head to meet a pair of red terrified ones. Samuel shook his head violently when he saw me, "Oh Mr. Eater! I'm so, so, so sorry. I'll leave."

"No, its fine. Stay." It was a direct order. This could be chance to talk to him, and I was not letting it slip away. That was the most words I'd ever heard come out of him at once. Desperately I held back the immense shock of having this chance.

Samuel blinked at me a couple times before nodding very slowly, "Okay...I'm just not sure if that's such a good idea."

I raised an eyebrow, "Why wouldn't it be?"

Samuel bit his lip but didn't say anything. Instead he let his gaze shifted to the instrument before us. In a desperate attempt to change the focus from the invariable question, 'can you play,' I asked my own. "Why were you running?"

Samuel snapped back to attention, "Oh...well I was trying to get away from someone."

"Who?" It was an odd answer.

"Girls..." He said the word with an awkward smile.

"Oh?" I asked with inquisitiveness spiking my voice, "And why were girls after you?"

Samuel's gaze shifted away from the piano to the door, where they stayed with nervous apprehension. But when he spoke he lost his timid edge. He seemed to gain confidence as if someone had flipped a switch. I watched him shift, wishing I could smell any hint of...anything other than that muddy, fragile sent.

"You'd be amazed," He said, reminding me of an English professor, "How many girls at this school would go for a weakling like me? Though it may have a maternal aspect, Mr. Eater, it's also human nature to rebel against standards at this age. If you grow up around something you're entire life, in this case though, obnoxious boys, you'll be more likely to revolt against it when you're older. Well, that, and I get the pity vote."

I didn't know what to say to that. It seemed like he already knew everything about me and I knew nothing of him. So I gasped for my remembrance of the English language and said the first thing that came to mind, "Y-y-you know you don't have to call me Mr. Eater. Just Soul will do."

Samuel seemed to revert back to his normal, unresponsive self and shook his head quickly, "No, I insist, you're an upper-class men. I was raised to respect my elders no matter how small the gap between our ages."

There was a pause, as I wondered what I had gotten myself into with this strange boy.

Finally he spoke again. "You're real name is Evans."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

I growled slightly, "Yeah but, don't you dare call me that, Samuel."

It felt weird saying his name. I thought it would burn my tongue on the way out. But instead it felt rather nice.

"You know, I'm here because I ran away too..." he said in a whisper my ears could barely hear.

I looked up to see only understanding filling his eyes. It felt oddly nice to have someone say that and mean it. "Rich families, eh? How selfish can we get?"

I laughed, I actually laughed.

Samuel smiled, "you know I've met your brother before, he's quite pretentious, if you don't mind me saying."

I stifled another chuckle, "And where was I during all this?"

"If I do remember correctly, you were sulking in the corner."

"Which time?"

Samuel smiled. It was a pretty smile and the air seemed suddenly lighter.

Their was another moment of silence before Samuel cleared his throat, "Umm, Mr. Eater, can I ask you a weird question?"

"Shoot."

"Umm, why do you stare at me so much during class?"

I opened my mouth, but shut it again, not sure what to say.

"I know, it's because, I'm so different. I hate how the world seems to have a problem with me. I sure don't have an issue with myself," He complained.

"No, it's not that...it's just...I was curious," I said quickly, not wanting to insult him.

My answer didn't seem to sooth him, "I wish you wouldn't be. Causing a scene will only led to trouble. I can't believe I had to perform that problem in front of the entire class. How embarrassing."

"You got it right," I defined.

"Even worst. Splashes only wake the deeper and darker parts of pond. They may look pretty in the sun, but it's just not worth it."

"Are you saying you don't want to stand out?"

Samuel looked up, "It's not what you think...it's just," he took a deep breath. Before shaking his head.

"Samuel?"

He laughed at my worry, puffing out his checks, "Can I trust you?"

I nodded.

Samuel looked around before leaning in, causing me to do the same, "Unlike you...I didn't exactly get parental consent to be here."

I let out a scoff, "That's it?" I stopped, however, when I saw his terrified gaze.

"You don't have the details, Mr. Eater."

"...Well your secret's safe with me."

He smiled and I felt the pressure in the room dropping once again.

There was another pause as both of us collected ourselves.

"Mr. Eater," He finally said meekly, a trait I was becoming more and more hesitant to say the boy possessed, "can you...play...for me?"

I looked up at him immediately. There was a pleading in his eyes, the likes of which I'd never seen before, anywhere. My resolution caved in a way I hadn't thought possible and I flipped the cover off the white ivory keys, "I guess."

His face lit up, "I've heard you play before. You were quite good."

"I don't remember that," I said off handedly. Boy, this poor kid was in for a shock. He'd probably heard the falsely sensitive, upbeat composition my parents had composed for me when all I had written were the unordinary dark pieces.

"Yeah, you shouldn't," his words were drowned as my hands hit the keys violently. Sending a shock through the entire room. The music belonged in the dark, cramped space in the depths of Hell.

My parents wrote scores for the Angels. But we weren't Angels, so why in Heaven's name did we pretend to be?

The song lulled into a forlorn minor that seemed to scream of lost redemptions and empty spaces.

And I didn't look up to see Samuel's expression, I didn't really care.

Finally I ended, not sure how long I had been playing, all I knew is it felt good to let my soul have its way.

When I looked up I was surprised to see Samuel still there. He smiled at me from behind half closed lids, "Like always, Mr. Eater, I never can quite understand you're music, buts it's quite good. Truly a masterpiece. I guess it's not my job to discover all of its hidden secrets."

I stared, not sure what to say to the first compliment I had ever gotten from, well, anyone. This was a phenomenon.

Samuel laughed at my silence, "This is the part where you thank me. Or, if you are so inclined, you ask what exactly I liked about it. But I'm not sure that's such a good idea. An explanation could take a while."

I ignored his suggestions, "Do you play?"

He smiled sweetly, "A little." Samuel rolled over to rest before the instrument.

"What do you know?"

"Hot crossed buns, umm Chopsticks...The Shinigami Anthem." He reached forwards tentatively pressing a few keys. Soon I heard the distinct shape of the Death God's pledge ringing through the small space.

I grinned and placed my own hands next to his, following his fingers up and down as they played the tune, copying his own movements wonderfully. He laughed as we together played the familiar song. And something about how happy the sound was made me do something usual.

I began to sing the familiar words that every student knew by heart. Samuel hummed along. Both of us stopping as he dissolved into a fit of frantic laughter.

The sound caught on and I soon found myself breaking into my own spasm.

We stopped after a while, both finding it hard to play in our current conditions.

After a moment I wiped the tears from my eyes, "So, do you play anymore instruments?"

He nodded, "Drums, Xylophone, Guitar, Saxophone, Trumpet, Accordion, Banjo, Mandolin, Pan Flute, Pipe Organ, Trombone, Tuba, Viola," My jaw hit the floor as he ran out of fingers to count with, "But what I'm really good at is the...never mind, its embarrassing" he shut his mouth tightly.

"No, tell me," I prodded

He narrowed his eyes but yielded, "The harp."

I threw my head back and laughed a little bit too loud, "What? Isn't that an Angel's instrument."

"I know, I know!" He defended, "But like all well off families, my value was determined by what I could do. And I have no siblings, so I had lessons for almost every instrument. Harp was apparently the most important one, because my tutor wouldn't let me drop it. I could play for you...I'm quite good."

He must feel comfortable with me; because no self respecting Demon would admit to such a past time, let alone offer to perform. "Yeah, sure, I'd like that."

He smiled, still blushing. "I sing too. But I'm quite soprano...I mean...I sound like a girl."

"More than you do right now?" No denying it, puberty hadn't hit Samuel yet.

He hit me with a book. Which effectively shut me up.

"Yeah, sing, it's cool," I said from my vantage point on the floor. Samuel smiled brightly as he rolled over to where a large, harp sat. It shown in the bright light, under its thick layer of dust. No wonder, it wouldn't have been used for years.

Samuel looked awkwardly around, noticing a stool sitting right next to it. "Umm, Mr. Eater, could you help me on to the chair?"

I stood, brushing myself off, my head still throbbing. Lifting the small boy up, I noted that he weighed close to nothing. I cradled his feather light form before situating him softly on the bench, around the harp.

He thanked me and I took my seat at my respected instrument.

Cracking his knuckles and clearing his throat he looked at me, and gave a weak, lopsided smile.

"Go right ahead."

Slowly he removed his fingerless gloves, and through them to the wheelchair.

Then taking a few experimental strokes, he began to softly play.

The song was sadder than mine and his hands made nimble work of the stings, swelling and dipping with a distressing, uncertain melody.

Then his voice joined the notes, blending itself beautifully. It intertwined with the music, until I wasn't sure which was which. Just the high majesty of his speech as it sang in a strange language, making me shiver uncontrolled in the midst of the sublime lament.

It was angelic.

I found myself rooted to the spot, losing the feeling of my senses to the song.

Suddenly he stopped and I jerk as he wrenched his fingers away. Pushing the instrument, it fell back into the shadows. His eyes were full of an intense fear, a harsh awakening from the peaceful music.

"Why did you stop-" But I barely got the question out before a new figure appeared at the door.

Mr. Imp was a short, fat man with a trim black goatee and a balding head. His stare seemed to penetrate you're soul, and get inside your head to mess with your thoughts.

His shark eyes were currently pinning Samuel to his chair. Samuel stared back, looking very much like a deer caught in the headlights. An overbearing urge to protect the boy sprang up within me and like a shot I was at his side lifting him back into the wheel chair. Samuel let out a sharp squeal of shock but didn't protest.

Mr. Imp watched the whole thing with an amused gaze, his long bony fingers situating themselves in the pocket of his neatly pressed dress coat. His stare wasn't broken until I had Samuel back in his wheel chair, shaking violently. Stepping forward I stared up into the eyes of my old music tutor, hating him just as much as I did from day one.

"What?" I asked sharply, mentally biting in to him with my words.

"Nothing," he answered, as sickly sweet as ever, "I heard sound, thought I'd come and see who made just a pretty song." He leaned around me, "Hello, Samuel."

Samuel's eyes were pinned to the ground, as he said nothing.

"It was me." I said calmly, "I was playing for Samuel."

"Really," he purred, "It didn't sound like a piano."

"Well, then you didn't hear it right. Did you?"

The bell rung, the blessed savoir of next class, and I turned and grabbed the handles of Samuel's wheel chair. Shoving past Mr. Imp, we escaped the room and fled to safety.

When I regained regular thought, I found myself standing outside, in one piece. I was panting desperately for air and Samuel looked as if he was about to be physically ill. His black hair covering his eyes. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry for that..."

I stared down at him, "Don't be. It's not your fault."

"I hate that man," He muttered. "He scares me...it..." Samuel stopped and I found one of his hands was gripping my own blazer so tight that his knuckles were white.

"It's okay," I said loosening his finger and leaning down to give him a smile, "I know."

He nodded and looked back at me, a smile cracked across his face.

"What?"

"You're teeth," he snickered, "Their just...very...neat."

Oh, that's right, the shape pearly whites perturbing from my skull.

I grinned wider, "Yeah, keep me out of fights pretty well. My parents hated them."

There was a moment of silence as the world moved around us. Samuel sighed, "If I don't go I'll be late for class, bye Mr. Eater-"

I stopped him, grabbing the back of his chair so he couldn't leave, "Umm Sam. This is going to sound silly but can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Mr. Eater."

I swallowed. I wasn't about to let the only person who had ever said anything intelligent in my presence leave and go back to being an antisocial outcast. "Samuel, are we friends?"

Samuel raised an eyebrow, looking a little amused, "Sure. But...Do me a favor and don't tell anyone. I like my reputation as an unapproachable recluse."

I nodded, "You're secret's safe with me."

My new editor tried to figure out who Samuel was. They guessed the absolute last person they thought it was. And they got it right. Maybe that helps. Remember to read between the lines. And that looks can be deceiving. Hope you enjoyed it.

Oh and you get that Mr. Imp is the Imp inside Soul's mind…I thought he deserved a character. And what's better than Soul's old music teacher?

Until Next Time,

Andy k.


	4. When the Roof Does Cave In

'_Through me the way into the suffering city, through me the way to eternal pain, through me the way that runs among the lost. Justice urged __on __my high__ artifice, my maker was divine authority. The primal wisdom and the highest love. __Before me only immortal things were created, and I endure eternally. Abandon all hope _they_ who enter here.' _– Dante Alighieri, Canto III, Inferno, Part One of the Divine Comedy. (Translation by John Ciardi)

It was unusually easy to break into the student files in Eurka office. I thought there'd at least be a lock or something of the sort, but instead it was just a door knob and a drawer, nothing more. I guess student privacy was not top of the list at the DW. Sitting myself on the hard wooden floor of the human resources office, I flipped through the folders with a flashlight balanced between my lips. Passing name after name of student, I finally got to the E's and then the E-I's and then the E-I-B's until I found what I was looking for.

Samuel hadn't been holding up his side of the bargain and I wasn't about to let him slink back into his unsociable demeanor. I was planning to take measures into my own hands. If that meant looking into his personal information then, I would have to do just that. With a smile I took it out and placed the manila folder at my feet.

Once everyone had left and the school had gone dark, I had skillfully broken back in. But this was too easy. I desperately wanted a bit more of challenge. Flipping it open I blinked, well this was… Challenging…

A single sheet of paper found its way to the ground. Picking it up, I found Samuel's name sitting firmly at the top, along with his picture, age and a few other facts I already knew. But other than that, the rest of the information was simply…Missing. Everything was gone. No address, no parental information, not even a medical record.

I blinked a few times before franticly flipping through the rest of the files, no way was I letting Samuel win. He was not going to avoid me like I had the plague. Not this one.

In my stupor I didn't notice the door slip open, the light from the hall washing over me and my black turtle neck. Crona stood in the door way looking confused and lost.

"S-s-soul? What are you d-d-doing here?"

"Whoa!" I jumped back dropping the folder and clutching my heart, "Crona! I was... Just…"

"You s-s-shouldn't be so loud," Crona inched across the room to the where the mess of forms lay, lifting them up he frowned even deeper. "What do you w-w-want with S-S-Samuel?"

I slipped to the floor unsure of how to feel about my guest, "Do you…umm, have Ragnarok under control."

"He's…Y-y-yes."

I nodded, good I wasn't about to get stabbed. "Well," I said standing back up, "I was just looking for some information. You won't tell your mother will you? 'Cause there would be consequences." I narrowed my eyes, giving the scrawny boy a murderous gaze.

"N-n-no," He said sinking to his knees, "I don't know how to deal with consequences." Crona was easy to manipulate. One empty threat and the kid would be at you're mercy. You just had to be careful, if that devil in his spine was around then you risked the possibility of getting hurt. But now Crona seemed to be under control and I felt confident I wasn't in danger.

"Samuel's n-n-nice to me, you know?"

"What?" I said rounding on him sharply, "He talks to you?"

"Ah, yelling!" Crona cringed, covering his ears, "How do people deal with so much yelling?"

I shook the urge to slap the boy out of my head and tried again in a softer voice, "You talk to Samuel?"

"Y-y-yes," Crona said simply.

"What does he say?"

Crona looked a little puzzled at the question, "H-h-he tells me that…It's okay t-t-to be scared. And he l-l-listens."

I sighed in frustration; Samuel certainly was an odd one. "You wouldn't, by any chance, know his address?" I inquired sarcastically.

"Eighty-seven, J-J-Jade Birch Road," Crona muttered.

"You know?"

"Is that bad! I'm s-s-sorry!" Crona cried.

I shook my head, "No…Thanks, see you later, crazy."

Crona frowned deeply as I ran from the room, not bothering to check the halls for Ms. Gorgon, or whoever had accompanied him to the school, before springing from the old colonial. Maybe I should work on my detective skills, but stumbling across the answer was good enough for now.

I made myself wait, cooped up in my tiny apartment until morning. Then once the sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon, I left the thicket of dangerous city and headed off in search of Samuel. Slipping on a pair of sunglasses, I mounted the form of my motorcycle and blasted off towards the address that was written in black pen on my forearm.

The suburbs disappeared behind me, petering in to the ragged countryside. The forest picked up around me and soon I was rocketing beneath the shade of a thicket of large trees. Turning left a large red sign announced that I was now on 'Jade Birch Road.' Houses were far apart here, So far apart it felt like the ideal place for a serial killer to stalk out its victims, miles to run to the nearest town. The disturbing idea was easy to shake off in the afternoon sun. Instead I mused at how long it took the poor kid to get to school.

Finally as the street ended with distinct dead end I noticed a sign. It was decrepit, and the numbers painted on it with green cursive were barely visible against the moldy wood. '87,' then an arrow pointing down a long driveway, protected by an overhang of heavy trees.

I cut the engine, stood from the leather seat and began to wheel it down the narrow path. It was long and it felt like an eternity of walking down into the everlasting wilderness until I found myself staring at an old house.

It was small, quaint in its hay day, with chirping blue and yellow paint. Two dormer windows sat on the slanting shingles, while the bottom level was adorned with two of its own. A chimney sat atop the roof, gray from use, the tiles around it falling to the weeds below. The entire house looked like it was in need of repair, but the garden looked alive with new life as bulbs basked in the sunlight and the stone path to the entrance was swept neatly. No doubt the mixture of bright colour was amplified by the green leaves working their way up the side of the building and embracing it tight as could be.

I took a couple steps towards the front stoop and let my bike stay obediently in the empty driveway. With hesitation I gripped the metal banister and knocked swiftly on the surprisingly purple and pink door. Its brass knob swung open with zero force and soon I found myself staring down a dimly lit hall, its wooden floor looking as if it couldn't support my weight.

But a voice broke the silence with a cheery tone, "Blair! Finally back, eh? Did you have a nice time with that 'friend' of yours? I wasn't expecting you till at least midnight."

I followed Samuel's little monologue until I found myself standing in a shabby kitchen, overlook the garden. The appliance seemed out of date and the colours something from the 70's.

Samuel was glowing in the sunlight, or at least the visible half of him was. I noticed his plaid capris were a size too big on his protruding legs and his white snickers were adorned with two carefully tied white bows. The top portion of the boy was currently out of sight.

Positioned under the sink I thought I saw the gleam of a wrench in the gloom.

"Hello, Samuel."

The boy jerked forward and I heard the sickening sound of his head hitting the top of the pipe. He groaned pushing himself out from under the counter without the use of his legs.

"What were you doing down there?" I asked sweetly.

"What are you doing in my house?" He asked not so sweetly.

"Touché," I said with a devilish smile.

Samuel sighed, "I was fixing the leaky faucet. Just because I don't have use of the lower half of my body doesn't mean that I shouldn't clean the house up. Lots of work to be done. I've got to fix the beams in the attic that are falling in next. But while you're here, would you mind helping me into my chair?"

"No problem," I said spotting it sitting patiently in the corner. Scooping him off the ground, I threw him messily over my shoulder, laughing at his protest. I set him down more gently, but that didn't stop Samuel's glare as he decked me upside the head with the wrench.

I fell back to the floor.

"You deserved that," he said with smile, rolling himself over to the table where a cup of coffee sat, still steaming, "First you break into my house, then you throw me upside down. I don't think I'm going to offer you anything to eat or drink."

I laughed as he made his way to the hall, I followed.

"So who's Blair? Your mom? Sister?"

Samuel scoffed sarcastically, "No she's not exactly maternal...She's a roommate I never really wanted."

"Huh, demon too?"

"Umm, no...She's a cat..."

"A cat? Then she's a pet."

"No...Pet implies ownership, and you can't really own a cat. Plus I'm pretty sure that a pet is something you choose and I didn't choose Blair."

"She's a stray?"

Samuel looked worried over my interest. "No...When I...Moved," he stopped, "she kind of followed me. I guess she's loyal...or stupid."

"Stupid?"

He sighed, "I mean she gave up a five class kitty life to live here with me. I still don't know. I love her for it though. For all her... Weird traits. I love her."

There was a weighted silence. Then I burst into laughter, "You seem to have a complicated relationship with your cat!"

Samuel smiled kindly, "Yes, yes, I guess I do. You have pets...Or siblings? People you live with?"

"Nope, live alone. Fancy little apartment in the clean section of Hell City. If that exists."

"I wanted as far out of the city as possible."

"Well you got it."

He smiled wider than I'd ever seen a mouth stretch. "I did. I planned to buy this place forever. Ever since my...Mama," his eyes went dark as he talked, "took me through the country side...She wasn't allowed in the city...Anyway I found this place and I fell in love."

Wasn't...Past tense.

I didn't know what else to say, "...I'm sorry."

He smiled again, pushing away the tears that I knew had gathered, "For what?"

"You're loss."

"What?"

"You used past tense...I'm sorry."

He looked at me and something very close to appreciation shining in his eyes, "Thank you, Soul. We don't have to talk about it though. I didn't really lose anything. Situations are simply…complicated. I'm good." Then he chuckled, "Do you like the house?"

I grinned, "You're very weird, you know that?"

"I try," He replied.

"I do like the house. It suits you," I said with a smile, "I mean it's garish and...It's got a lot of personality."

Samuel was smiling again, which made me really happy. But suddenly he dropped the demeanor and let out a small huff, "Soul, Soul Eater Evans...Mr. Evans, why are you here?"

"I wasn't going to let you back out of his friendship. Didn't talk with me for ages. Plus I was bored."

"Really?" He questioned.

"Yeah, I kind of just wanted to see you." The honest approach seemed the best tactic to take with Samuel.

He snorted and began down the hall, "Did you have to break into my house to do that?"

I grinned sarcastically, "It's not breaking in if the front door is open."

I followed obediently, all the while observing the framed pictures hanging against the faded, garish wallpaper.

Mountains of Tibet, the coral riffs of the Caribbean. Deserts of Egypt. Thailand to Canada. Mexico to Norway. Every type of weather. England, France, Japan, Brazil. The thought was a little over whelming.

The list continued as I entered the living room. Blue and Purple polka doted décor coated every square inch. Well except the carpet, which sported yellow and green strips.

My eyes hurt a little as I took it all in, but then quickly focused on even more pictures.

"You get around," I commented.

"Yes, yes I do."

All the beautiful hillsides, cliff tops, and ocean waves that greeted me were stunningly preserved as they were in that moment of time.

It seemed like Samuel had managed to be everywhere, from the Eiffel Tower to Grand Central Station.

"I've never wanted anything more than to just travel. You don't have to worry about anything; not where you're going to be the next day, not how you're going to get there, not a thing."

"Show me photos?" I asked. He seemed to be happy again and I was willing to go along with anything that kept him that way. Plus it was rather interesting; a world traveled 16 year only wasn't something you see every day. I myself had rarely been out of Hell City, only on the occasional performance.

Samuel nodded and wheeled over to a set of cabinets on the far wall. Opening the top he pulled out a large cardboard box, stuffed with newspaper.

I ran over, scared the load would be too much for him.

Letting me take it from him he wheeled over to where I placed it on the carpet. He leaned over and began to unpack it. Personalized key chains, cityscapes in snow globes, little plastic figures of monuments. It seemed like he'd been everywhere.

Great Wall. Space Needle. Golden Gate Bridge. Statue of Liberty. The Pyramids. The Colosseums. Stonehenge. Taj Mahal. Hagia Sophia. Leaning Tower of Pisa. Catacombs of Kom el Shoqafa. Porcelain Tower of Najjing. The Grand Canyon. Chichen Itza. Big Ben. Saint Basil's Cathedral. St Winefride's Well. Niagara Falls. Buckingham Palace. Chateau d'Amboise.

Picture after picture was produced from the tissue paper. Each one he handed to me. Naming its origin.

Finally he pulled out one of a beach in midday. The sea stretched out for miles behind the spotless, tan dunes of sand. A towel sat under the shadow of an umbrella. It was spectacular and sunny. "California... Have you ever been?"

"No," I told him simply.

"I remember the salt air...I remember the call of gulls. Back before...a lot of bad things happened."

I took the photo into my own hands and suddenly Samuel jumped and let out a whimper. I looked up at him to see a mixture of scared shock resting in his scarlet eyes.

I raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"Oh, nothing...I just forgot you were there."

I snorted and turned my attention back to the picture.

Sitting center fold in a pink bath suit was a pretty blonde girl around ten, her hair done up in match ribbons. She had a half smile on her petite features and resting in her hands was a shell bigger than her head.

I nodded at the picture and asked the obvious question, "Who's this?"

Samuel fidgeted nervously, "She's a local I befriended. Quite nice, complete accepting of my whole... Condition."

"Does someone have a crush?" I teased.

Samuel blinked before letting out a small bemused chuckle, "Ha...I don't know what to say to that ...ha..."

I looked back at the picture.

"This girl, you say she's a local...I think I've seen her before." Something about the child looked familiar and the nagging pull of remembrance was crushing my mind. I glanced up at Samuel who had broken into a fit of coughing.

"Oh! Of course!" I cried.

Samuel seemed to freeze quite suddenly, taking on the same look he had when confronted with Mr. Imp, "Soul, I can explain-"

"She's got your smile."

Samuel's eyes grew even wider as he spluttered to a halt.

"Oh yes...I suppose she does, isn't that something? Haven't noticed," he laughed a little before snatching the image away from sight.

I stood up and stretched, "It would be something to go to all these places one day. To see the world...Huh, do you think you'd like to accompany me when I go?"

Samuel smiled, "Why Mr. Eater, I'd like nothing better! Now, since I assume you have nowhere to go Sunday, I insisted you spend the night. Tea will be ready shortly, and I have an extra bedroom that's out of use."

"A demon having tea? You certainly don't know very much about your culture, do you Samuel?"

"Well just because I am a beast born of the eternal flames of suffering doesn't mean I can't enjoy the routine of afternoon tea. I'm a little insulted you implied anything of the sort."

The evening found me sitting on Samuel's back stoop. It was a warm spring afternoon and the late sun rays burned through the tree tops and played with the swaying emerald grass.

The tea set was about as delicate looking as Samuel himself and the ornate blue and pink flower trim reminded me of something served by a 70-year-old grandmother with far too many cats.

I sat down in the white lawn chair with its round 18th century backing and reached forward to grasp the steaming liquid he had poured for me before offering cream and sugar, which I both refused.

He added a shot of white half and half to his own before sweetening it with two spoonfuls. It was funny to watch him busy about making it in the first place, but having him drill me on the proper etiquette one must employ had me in periods of laughter every few minutes.

He'd slap the back of my hands with a hard cover book, rough enough to sting but only for a second. Then, he'd raise a finger and tell me something very 'matter-o-fact-ly.'

"The handle and the spoon always point to four o' clock and the pot always faces the host, moi."

I watched as he sipped his own tea, squinting in the bright light, "I'm surprised you didn't know all this already."

"I'm a demon, Samuel. A demon. You are too, why do you know all these things?"

"Knowledge is power, Mr. Eater and my parents were under the assumption that the more I know the more the bright my future would end up. Not like they taught me anything worth knowing."

"The harp was rather impressing."

"Yes... It's in my blood."

I sniffed again. His blood was certainly weird...I guess it could be holding more secrets than I knew what to do with.

"Anyway..." Samuel paused, "The more talents you have the richer the spouse you snag."

"Oh I see what this is!" I teased.

"Yes well, my old suitors," he said rolling his eyes, "seemed to think I was the stereotypical goody two shoes. Smart, polite, quiet."

It didn't take long to picture neatly dressed, uptown girls with their curled ringlets and lacey skirts fawning over Samuel like a puppy with a broken leg. But my mind was more focused on the undeniable fact that, all things considered, Samuel was a sweet, little boy, "You're not a goody two shoes?"

There was a pause and in the silence I looked up to see a sadistic smile spreading across Samuel's lips, "No, Mr. Eater, no I'm not."

I shivered in the broad day light.

"I'm surprised your parents didn't want to find you some lady to pass you off on," Samuel said.

"Are you kidding? My parents want nothing to do with me. When I left home they forgot they had a second son. Anyway what girl would want me?"

"You'd be surprised, Mr. Eater. For some reason the females at Demon West see me as a source to confide in. The boy that would never dream of touching them." he laughed, "Well anyway, a bunch of them bore my ears off with 'Oh, Soul is so hot. Did you see those eyes of his?'" He dissolved into laughter.

I scoffed at everything he told me, "It's not like that's much better than no crushes. I mean it's just my looks. Looks aren't anything, one day I'll be old and wrinkled, the only person who will still find me handsome is the people who love me."

Samuel smiled, "I like you Mr. Eater, you're...Different."

"So are you!" I said taking hold of my cup and watching the liquid swirl between porcelain walls.

"Nahaha, Mr. Eater, that is a total no, no. We never treat tea like wine."

I sighed, setting it back down. He seemed to be back to normal.

"You also, never, never cradle the tea cup. Short sips then back to the saucer, which is the drink's home. It never leaves for too long, nor gets too far away. Some other things you are not allowed to do is fill the cup to his rim or drain a tea bag by strangling it with its string. Always use lemon slices, not wedges. Also milk can be added after tea is poured. Do you understand?"

"Sadly, yes," I said standing and stretching. I lifted the dishes up to take them back inside.

"Oh, and Mr. Eater," He said, calling me back, "Always, and this is very important, write your host a thank you card when you've finished."

"I wouldn't expect it, if I were you."

"Don't worry. I don't."

The night was quiet and cool. Samuel and I sat on the grass after dinner. Samuel had proved to be an impressive cook and I was a little worried that he was going to completely out-rank me in skill level. When I told him that he had laughed and simply said, 'Oh, Mr. Eater, I already do.'

"Isn't your cat supposed to be home?"

"Heck no, she's not coming back till tomorrow. Doesn't want to interrupt our evening."

"You're cat's really something."

"She's a good kitty, kitty. I'll reward her with some nice fish."

I watched him staring out at the night; it was a night with fireflies as well as stars. Beyond the tree line was the moon, large and red.

"Have you seen the moon in Death City, Mr. Eater?" he whispered into the night gazing at the swaying tree line. I smelled the night and the wind; the world felt alive.

"No, never."

"Well it's scary. Not like this, bloody and big. No it's got a face."

"A face?" I asked. The thought was a little strange.

"Yup, a crazy face, drooling a bunch blood. Especially when something wrong is going down."

I chuckled, though the thought was unnerving.

We both basked in the sound of hushed night time, not a car or a city light for miles. Just us in a sea of peaceful darkness, we could very well be the last people left in Hell and that would be alright.

"Shall we stay up till sunrise, Mr. Eater?"

"Ha, Samuel, of course we will."

And with that we fell into silence.

Well that's all for now…Ugh, it's hard to eat chips and type. My keys are all sticky. Didn't you love how shamelessly I hinted towards who Samuel was? Well if it isn't crystal clear at this point than I should come to terms with the fact that I shouldn't be the clue master for treasure hunts.

Anyhow, the top quote is from Dante's Inferno. Which is amazing…Even though I'm pretty sure Dante was in love with a fourteen year old. The first extract was of course was from Soul Eater. And the second was from a Starting Line's song on their awesome album 'Based on a True Story.' Kenny V has helped me through some super hard times.

Once again this if for my friend, Rosey, who has put up with my compulsiveness and short temper for the last ten years or so. We've been through a lot. And she is truly a wonderful person, intelligent, funny, sweet and more sensitive than I could ever hope to be. I know I'm not easy to get along with and I don't expect anyone outside my own imagination to even try. But apparently she doesn't mind. I hope my small actions are enough to make you see how much I value this friendship, because I'd be hopeless at showing it otherwise.

Okay, now that I've poured my heart out to the internet, I'd like to report that I'll see you either Tuesday or Wednesday with a half chapter (its three pages). Comments are always welcomed.

-Until W-we Meet Again, I W-will Miss You All Wery Dearly,

Andy k.


	5. A Half Chapter about Dial Tones

When I woke it was on the lawn. The district smell of morning fiddled its way into my workings. The dew that coated everything was just now beginning to dry, and with the sun blinding the darkness, I let the world come in to focus. I felt too small, handicapped there with the sun peering down into my own large eyes.

I blinked it away and sat up, only now having the crushing epiphany that I had no idea where Samuel was. I felt my heart beat hitch, though I wasn't exactly worried. I mean he could handle himself…I hesitated…to an extent he could handle himself.

Looking back to the house it seemed far less welcoming in the early daybreak glow. It seemed dead now. A lifeless weight in a wakening world. Its window's seemed bleak and besides the door, which stood open on its hinges, forbidding me to come in. The whole house looked dead, its tarnished features no longer giving off a goofy charm. Instead it looked sad, abandoned.

I stepped forward slowly, barely aware of anything other than the gapping entrance. The porch squeaked under my feet, sending a wave of shock through my spinal cord. Something in me felt immoral sneaking back into Samuel house. Not that it was sneaking, right? He had invited me over. He had simply left his backyard, leaving me behind.

What time had I passed out anyway? Had he left me at some indecent hour in the morning? I had the feeling the boy would view the whole incident as some marvelous joke. Oh, well, it wasn't his fault he couldn't push me up the wrap on the side of the porch. It wasn't until I got to the door that I heard the voice floating out towards me.

Pushing my way back to the kitchen, I cringed at the sickening sound the oxidized hinges made. Sneaking over the checkered floor I looked up into the creepy eyes of the Ms. Kitty Cat Clock. Man, was that terrifying, it almost wasn't worth knowing the time. I let the tic-tock-ing mask my footsteps.

Rounding the corner I found the source of the whispering.

Samuel sat on an uncomfortable wooden chair, the dining room table sat in a pool of sunlight along with him. He was talking to someone over the phone, his conversation reaching my ears as I stood in the arch way. I was in the shadow, out of sight. I could see him, but he couldn't see me.

A large heavy set box sat next to him. Its lid was thrown open, a thick belt strap strewn out over the cloth. The buckle shown, glistening to the point of being blinding. Medical supplies coated the rest of the area. A mirage of rappers and gauze. A bottle of rubbing alcohol sat open, while Samuel carefully patted the crook of his elbow, preparing it for the coming needle.

"No, sorry…No," Samuel laughed, talking to an unseen third party on the other line of the telephone he currently had tucked between his shoulder and ear. He pushed his already rolled up sleeve farther away from his exposed skin, "I'm not saying you can't come back…just not until my friend's gone."

"Yes, I have friends!" Popping the cap of a small medical needle he swung it in between his fingers, "His name is Soul. Yes…he's a boy! I'm one to, remember?"

I held in a snicker, he seemed to really think the person on the other side of the conversation needed reminding. Listening a bit more carefully, I could hear a bubbly female voice giggle.

Checking the flow of liquid, Samuel didn't wince as he found a vein and smashed the needle through his skin. He looked towards the trash can before throwing the therapeutic waste towards it, "Yes, I have taken my medication."

Samuel flipped the box closed, "He'll be up soon…I have to go now."

There was a long silence, the room held its breath; "He doesn't know…I thought he was going to figure it out, but…I guess he's stupid."

"Love you too."

Samuel hung up, running his hands over his eyes. Rubbing gentle circle in to his skin, he began to clear the table. Upon looking up from the floor, his eyes seemed to focus on my out line. With a small smile he spoke to the air, "Soul, come on out."

I stepped out quite sheepishly, "How do you do that?"

"I'm not telling."

"Not very nice of you, Samuel…Who were you talking to?"

"…My nurse, she's not coming today. Doesn't want to interrupt us."

"You love you're nurse?"

Samuel shrugged finally making eye contact, "I've known her for a while."

I took the offered answer and crossed to stand at his feet. With a delicate touch I reached out to grab his thin arm. The scars of pricks come and past marred smooth skin.

"Do you clean them?"

"Of course."

"…Well what are you injecting," I asked as he covered the gauze with some fowl smelling fluid in preparation for sterilization.

"Its," he let out a hiss of pain when the cloth touched his limb, "…steroids, don't think I could survive without help, could you?"

"Guess not," I muttered. Sure enough, when I sniffed the air he smelt more aggressively pungent than ever. As if at this moment he was a demon.

Samuel sighed as he pulled down his sleeve, "Well Mr. Eater. Since you're up, why don't I send you off right, with a nice big breakfast?"

He seemed happy with the thought and once we had found his wheel chair, he led the way to prepare a frying pan. After a moment of just staring at the stove he let out a small snort.

"By the way, how did you sleep?"

Authors Note:

It's not really a chapter; it's more of a half chapter. So, here's half a chapter! I hope this is properly spell checked because I was pretty out of it when writing. Its only existence hinges on the fact that I need to advance the plot in a way that occurred to me only after chapter three was finished with.

So this being posted today will not interfere with another chapter being up on Tuesday. Which I think will be my typical posting date here on out if I don't get really bored.

I also apologize for how late I'm posting. I was all like, 'I'll post on Tuesday.' And now its four days later and I feel like an idiot. I'd like to say that I was doing something important with those four days. I really wasn't. Well I guess that depends on what your definition of important is. If web comics are important to you, well than what I was doing was worthy of head line news.

Peace, love, and….umm Ice Cream

-Andy k.


	6. Lord, Bring Down the Rain

'_Little angel go away, come again some other day. The devil has my ear today; I'll never hear a word you say__' _– Weak and Powerless by A Perfect Circle.

I stepped away from the flood of love letters that threatened to drown me in a sea of paper cuts and mushy poetry. Luckily a strategically placed trash can caught most of the spill and I was left with the task of picking a few faulty outliers off the ground. Groaning in disgust I dropped them with their brothers, where they belonged. Samuel had been with me the last time I had opened my locker. It was to retrieve a forgotten book, and, not thinking, I had through the latch quickly allowing the tide to come pouring down on my head, crushing me to the floor.

Samuel had toke one look at the situation, and my wide eyed body on the ground before bursting into unending stream of hysterical laughter. As much as I wanted to I couldn't hate him for it. After a couple minutes of heavy cussing, Samuel had asked what I did with all of them.

"Throw them away…usually, "I had answered.

"Usually?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, sometimes I read them; you know when I want a good chuckle." The thought was undeniably sadistic but it wasn't as if I was sharing them with anyone outside my own weird little mind. It was sick, but hey, if they didn't want me to read them, they shouldn't have posted them.

Samuel didn't seem amused.

"It's not fair to laugh at the poor girls, Mr. Eater, it's not like they know any better."

"Look," I said narrowing my eyes for the first time in his presence, "They're capable of thought, so it's not my fault if they don't learn for themselves. It's not like any of them have ever expressed an intelligent thought in one of these love notes!"

At first he seemed shocked by my anger and I feared for a second that I had lost a friend. But suddenly, almost carefully Samuel smiled. It was one of his stunning grins. The one that showed off all of his straight, pearly teeth.

Quickly he turned himself around and began to wheel away. I gathered the supplies I needed and quickly ran to catch up, not bothering to shut my locker or even clear up the pile of papers on the floor.

"I'm not saying that you should give one a chance, "Mr. Eater. All I'm saying is don't be so blasé about dismissing them. Maybe an actually sincere admirer will fall into the mix." He winked when I was beside him, chuckling softly at my bewildered look.

"Any girl that I like's going to have to have the nerve to admit it in person, and then some."

"Real, what's your type then?" He asked with sarcastic amusement.

"Ha, ha, very funny."

"No, tell me, I want to know."

I muttered a curse word under my breath, which made Samuel chuckle. "Well she's…" I paused I would give my regular answer, which was as vapid as the girls who fawned over me, but I never felt right lying to him. I don't think he bought any of it.

So the only other option was what I really looked for, "Well…she's headstrong and confident. The type that thinks and you know it, because she she'll tell you exactly what's on her mind. She doesn't play games, but if she did, she'd win. And she doesn't go around being promiscuous or anything stupid like that."

Samuel laughed, "Little Miss. Love sounds rather mean."

"No…no, she isn't, well…I don't think she's above a little cruelty but deep down she's a kind girl…I mean she doesn't deal well with stupidity but she's a nice. Accepting and…I guess just a little bit kooky." I felt weird describing someone that didn't really exist…well at least not currently in my life.

"Ha, I guess not an angel, eh?"

I placed a hand on the back of his chair stopping him in his tracks, "Angels are fine by me. Pretty kinky. I could teach her how to be a little naughty, don't you think."

It was Samuel's turn to stare, and he did it with obvious shock. A blush spread across his face as he feverishly looked around for a new place to set his eyes, "Mr. Eater. I'm a little shocked that you…"

I poked Samuel in the forehead causing him to look back up at me, "You're weird."

He nodded his good humor returning, "And you're a rake."

"You asked."

"Fair enough."

And with that the conversation ended, leaving me to wonder at how a demon could be that compassionate and shameful. I sighed.

"Soul!" Looking up at the sound of my name, it didn't take long to find the sources of the outcry. Harvar was barreling down the hall towards me. His face was painted a ghostly white. By the time he reached me I could smell the worry as it dripped from his skin, infecting mine,

"Soul, thank god I found you." He breathed in heavily as he rested himself in the wall next to me, "It's about Samuel, that puny kid from Calculus?"

I would have yelled something at him but my fear was quickly growing, "What about him."

"I overheard a couple of second years coming out of the changing rooms. They were talking about beating him up. Said 'a little pain will teach him the meaning of his species.'

"Where," I called already rushing down the hallway.

"Back yard," Harvar called after me running to keep up.

"No, go get Free," I shouted still going, "Besides; you don't need to get blood on your glasses."

Harvar hesitated before obeying my orders. It heard him mutter, "Heaven knows why you care so much for that strange kid." Then him and his disapproving tune were gone.

The doors to the back of the school bust open as I ran into storm clouds. The world wasn't a serene paradise it was earlier. It looked angry and vengeful, as if about to smite the ground it had once loved dearly. Rain threatened to fall but without the promise it kept its feet high above our heads.

And as I ran around the large stone deck, I felt my heart thunder in my ears, blood pushing its way into my mind.

There were no thoughts left to think, just adrenaline, and blood lush.

I knew the type of my prey. Those weak headed boys with their bodies of muscles and hormones. Samuel was quite and weak looking, something they couldn't understand and because of that he could be easily taken advantage of.

But it was a play for attention. Made to make them seem bigger, feel better about themselves. So why were there no crying pleas? Where was the crowd to boost their ego? There should at least be jeering, taunts of the victim's weakness. The silence scared me more than anything.

That's when I say the first sign of blood, what seemed to be an unending stream of sticky red liquid. Surly there would be some, but not this much...not from one little boy.

'Samuel if you're not alright, I, myself will personally kill you." well...that didn't make much sense.

But upon rounding the corner, I was greeted by a sight I wasn't expecting.

There sat Samuel propped against the guarding post. His body was limp, coated in blood.

In fact the liquid painted everything, from the floor to the three bodies sitting at Samuel's feet.

I stood frozen. Not sure of anything.

Suddenly, Samuel moved, his head jerked forward, as if he had broken the surface of sleep from a rather terrifying dream.

Heavy breathing filled the air as Samuel's wide eyes flitted around, not seeming to notice the gore. Then his frightened stare landed on me. For a second I forgot the boy had a handicap. He let out a growl that pierced the air with sickening force, his body lunging forward towards me.

But as quick as his rage had stared it stopped, and he fell forward flat on his face.

"Samuel!" I cried.

Splashing through the sick puddle, I ignored the bullies, desperately in need of medical attention and lifted Samuel into my lap. He began to cough desperately his chest heaving against my legs. For a second I felt completely useless, unsure of what to do, unsure of how to help him.

But between his wheezing I say him smile, ever so slightly.

"Hello Mr. Eater, I wouldn't worry. The blood isn't mine."

"Samuel, what happened?" I yelled, crushing Samuel to my chest. Glad that I still felt the flutter of his heart. Tears began to prick my eyes.

"Mr. Eater don't get so maudlin with me, I'm fine."

I blinked and let him sit up on his own. He looked tired, his face was paler and his eyes were dull compared to their regular shine. Suddenly he pulled his blood smattered jacket from his shoulders, not caring what happened to it when it hit the ground.

"Samuel we have to get you to the nurse."

I went to stand but Samuel pulled me back down again, "No."

I stared at him, for a long time before deciding to go along with his judgment.

"Thank you, Mr. Eater. I know you're confused, and a little relieved but...I just don't think that's the best idea."

"But why-"

"I'm sorry I can't explain myself much."

Hesitantly, I took off my own blazer to drop around his shoulders.

"Samuel...what happened?"

Samuel snorted, his eyes shifting to the sky. A gust of wind drew around us, shifting through his hair. The smell of blood was encircling us, making the world seem hallow. coldness was everything.

Finally he spoke, "Sorry." He breathed, I don't think he even knew where he was. When he spoke it was barely above a whisper, "I was in the garden, you know the one where I found your socks in the koi pond. After your clothes were stolen during gym."

He chuckled lightly.

"Then they dragged me back here-"

"Samuel, no I mean, how did," I gestured to the mess, "This happen?"

"Oh...that..." He seemed surprised as he looked at the violence he had had a hand in creating, "I don't know...I must have passed out..."

I blinked, pushing him was a bad idea. Something had obviously happened. Something provoked by his assailants. I'm not sure he even knew what it was.

"Are they alive?" I asked unsure of the answer as I stared down at the bodies.

Samuel nodded carefully, "They should be."

That was less then reassuring.

"Come on, Samuel where's your wheel chair, I'll lend you some cloths and take you home."

Samuel didn't move, and I thought I was going to have to drag him away from the crime scene.

"Samuel?" I asked.

Suddenly the boy tensed. His arms shoot out and to grab hold of my white shirt, leaving little tarnished finger prints, "Don't leave, Mr. Eater I need...a favor."

I gazed down at his eyes, wide and unblinking, "Take the blame...I can't have the attention A legless weakling beating three well sized demons into a pulp. It'll send up more than one red flag."

There was a silence. I nodded. I would do just about anything for Samuel. These last two months had taught me so many things. Including loyalty.

I had been possessive of the boy, to a point of obsession. What little insults that had been thrown his way since the beginning of the year ceased completely. Anyone who knew the name 'Eater' knew that picking on 'Eibon' would result in sudden death.

Samuel had, of course, noticed but told me not to bother. It didn't mean anything to him and would only take up my time. Stupidity was a disease, but it was an illness that would have no affect over him.

So how would protecting Samuel from the danger of his secrets be any different? It was a matter of trust that he would make the right choices. That he could explain if he could. At the movement there was only one thing, I knew for sure. That Samuel was my friend and if I didn't take the fall it would result in trouble. I didn't want to face that so I knelt down to be with him once again. A relieved smile coming to rest in his eyes, but deep down I felt out bond heighten as we formed our solitary pack of lies.

There wasn't much time to bask in the friendship.

"Soul I - What happened here!"

Free and Harvard rounded the corner only to stop dead in their tracks upon beholding such a gruesome sight.

Samuel fell into me bursting out in to loud hysterics. "Thank you," and, "Mr. Eater," was the only words I made out between sobs.

I held the blubbering; whimpering mass in my arms, meeting Frees eye contact.

He seemed unsure of how to proceed. So turning to Harvard who had a nonplused, nauseated look on his face he said, "Umm, run and get the nurse."

Harvard stumbled off scarred by the amount of blood, that looked less like an incident of school bullying and more like someone had properly gutting and skinned and cow.

"Are you hurt, Samuel?" He said eyeing us with mock suspicion.

Samuel looked up, his large eyes full of fear. He never let go of me.

"No...Thanks to Mr. Eater." He sniffed, wiping his eyes.

Free nodded and paused, his stare roaming the damage once again, "Where's your wheel chair?"

"In the garden where they accosted me," Samuel said with a skilled look of horrific remembrance entering his eyes.

"Soul brings him round and make sure he gets home. We'll talk about punishment later."

I lifted Samuel into my arms, glad that I was in charge of getting him something safe.

Free winkled his noise, "Smells awful, doesn't it?"

He had a point the rank of demon's blood covered everything but, before he could leave, I noticed that a new look had come over Frees face. Not one of disgust but one of curious confusion. I sniffed again. What I found in the aura of the air was in weird contrast to the blood dimmed tide and storm of sky.

It was something...beautiful. Of flowers and forests and the peaceful, innocent things in-between.

It felt warm, and wild, and free. And whatever it was it didn't belong in his hell hole.

Samuel had gone still in my arms as Frees face seemed to double in thought.

Jabbing my rib, I heard him whisper an elegant command, "move, I need to get home."

I cared him away from that ugly, graphic scene. Even when the smell was intoxicating and the storm growing closer and closer. More and more furious.

"Here you go," I said handing Samuel a yellow and black sweat shirt that looked about five sixes to big, even though it was mine from about five year ago. He looked at it as if I had handed him a snake and told him to beat the lock off a door knob.

"Put it on," I prompted taking off my own shirt and messily throwing it on to the tilled floor of the boy's changing room.

"I've never been in here before," he whispered, "I got excused from physical activity." He blushed noticing my chest, before averting his gaze and brandishing the coat in front of me.

"I don't want this, its fine."

"No, you're covered in blood Samuel. Now, change."

He nodded, pulling it close to his body, "I can't promise you'll get it back."

I shrugged, "It's too small for me."

Samuel seemed nervous, "Soul, could you turn around?"

I raised an eyebrow but turned to the wall, "Doesn't seem like you to be uncomfortable with your body."

He laughed, "I'm not...just easily embarrassed when it comes to human anatomy. I'm a bit prudish about this sort of stuff. Think it goes back to my father's own pernicious nature. Unacceptable...You can turn around again, by the way."

Samuel sat there, looking as scholarly as ever, "Plus a little insecurity isn't a bad thing. It teaches you humility. Keeps you from stupid decisions.

He had zipped my jacket all the way up and from his position on the floor it looked more like a dress than a top. I wasn't even the tallest kid in class and even I dwarfed him. He was a child, all his features still feminine and childish.

He didn't belong here.

And he knew it.

The garden looked cryptic in the late afternoon shadow. Far from the bright sunny colours of flowers, the world looked frosted and cold. Like a grave yard. Samuel was quiet as I set him in his wheel chair, tipped over from when his attackers had sprung from their hiding place.

He looked up at me and I could tell something was wrong. That wrongness scared me.

"I'm fine," that was a lie, but it was a lie that we both decided to believe. If we didn't then how could we continue living? I lead him down the deserted halls, which he regarded with a wide eyed gawk, as if he'd never seen them before

"You're quite an actor," I commented referring to his antics outside. Those alligator tears he had wallowed in for Free.

"I guess I get that from my father too. He was rather over emotional. Once I fell off the swing and busted up my elbow. He cried for a week. I didn't shed a tear. It was pretty pathetic but I guess that's what families are for."

"You mean, you haven't always..."

I didn't know how to phrase my question without sounding insensitive. But he seemed to know what I was getting at.

"Yes, I wasn't always in a wheel chair," he sighed.

"I'm sorry."

He dismissed his condition with a wave of his hand, having better things to think about.

I looked around at the disserted drive, wondering what time it was. It must be later than I had thought it was. Everyone would be gone and the school would be utterly forgotten. Left alone for the weekend only to be begrudgingly revisited on the fallowing Monday.

"Soul, I'm going to go."

"Go, what do you mean? I'll take you."

"No, it's alright. I'm going to call my nurse, have her pick me up."

"Samuel, I want to stay with you I don't want you to get hurt again."

"Again, Mr. Eater? I'm fine."

"You have no idea what happened to you!"

"I can handle myself."

"It's okay to let me in you know. Aren't we friends?"

"We are...and that's why I have to go home."

Somehow I don't think he meant the quaint little cottage in the woods.

And I suddenly felt very, very lifeless.

Samuel seemed to know that part of me understood. He seemed to know that part of me choice not to understand. And he seemed to know that he felt exactly the same way. So I simply smiled along with him. Although it was just a façade we were enjoying it was enough to keep us breathing,

"See you later, Mr. Eater."

"Yeah see you later, Samuel."

And with that he disappeared. Disappeared for good.

Then rain finally came, slipping through the clouds, cold and unforgiving, to touch the face of the ground.

Author Note: Oh god. I have no idea if this is spell checked. AHHH!

I like that last line. It makes me all shivery in a good way. I think my twitchy coffee filled past self was getting at the Challenger speech thing Reagan made in a really vague way. I'm still twitchy and coffee filled but just not to the same extent. Yeah, so….

…This chapter got a little…violent. But, hey, it would be lame if it was just mindless flirting all the way through. So I hope you enjoyed. I'm not really sure if this is spell checked. So if it isn't, then forgive me and I'll repost it. But until then, enjoy.

So I'm happy. Hope you like it….I'm going to go make myself another cup of coffee

Oh, oh, oh, I'd like to add how happy all your comments have made me. Each time someone figures it out I snicker with joy. I mean, you people really make my day. It's uncanny how much you have figured out with all the speed bumps and plot twists I add in for fun. Recently someone commenting on the last chapter blew my mind. I was all like, "GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST! I've told you nothing and you've figured out everything!"

- Do You Think Normal People Dream about Giant, Fighting Robots as Much As I Do?

Andy k.


End file.
